


A Dead Man's Mistakes

by ChiakiAkito



Series: Talecraft - Missing moments [1]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Forsaken, Gen, Horde side, Implied M/M, Military Backstory, Sin'dorei, Some angst, Some hurt/comfort too?, Undeath, mentioned M/F, quel'dorei, second war
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-28
Updated: 2016-01-28
Packaged: 2018-05-16 21:25:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5841541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChiakiAkito/pseuds/ChiakiAkito
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The spouse of a fallen soldier and an ex-Spellbreaker under his command find each other again after years of separation and finally find time to mourn their loved ones. [Part of a series on "Missing moments" from old RP. No need to know the characters to get most of the story.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Dead Man's Mistakes

**Author's Note:**

> In tribute to my now-defunct guild. Please forgive the heavy style, this is a translation from the original Italian and it shows a bit in sentence structure.

It was strange to see anybody in the hall at that late hour. The stars dotted the dark sky of Alterac, ever-shining over the mountaintop; the guild rested in the hidden chambers of their manor, during one of the ever-so-rare periods of peace timidly showing their face between a conflict and the next. Anya had just come back from a midnight flight: Flariel the dragonhawk was calmer now, and rested peacefully on its perch. The elf closed the door behind her and combed a hand through her pale, windswept hair. A long yawn escaped her lips, a loud noise in the wide, quiet room as she took a couple of steps forward. It was then that she noticed him.  
The alchemist was standing in front of a nearby table, perched on a tome with yellowed pages that half-glowed in candlelight. His only arm was propped against the wooden surface, his exposed hand gloved, but a thick, black cloak was covering what she knew to be no more than a stump on the left side of his body. He had probably been immersed in reading, before she came in; now he stared at her, the eerie glow of his eyes fixed on her face.  
There were a few moments of silence, while Anya blinked in surprise. If it was rare to catch any one of the guild members up at that late hour, the sight of the Forsaken's pale visage poking anywhere outside of his dungeon-turned-laboratory was an extraordinary one indeed. She mulled over the unexpected meeting for a few seconds; the other, gathering that Anya was not about to speak, turned his head back down, towards the book.  
-... Master Revan.- was the greeting that had finally come out of her throat. Anya closed the gap between them, stopping right in front of the table.  
-Anya. Do the living not sleep, at this time of the night?- he answered. His hoarse voice betrayed no annoyance, only a hint of irony. If he was bothered by the interruption, he wasn't showing it.  
-Work is work. Shouldn't you be with your lady?-  
-Work is work.-  
Her thin lips stretched into a wry smile. She leant against the back of a chair, pausing to remove her riding gloves. Her lithe fingers closed around the well-worn leather.  
-How are things between the two of you? I've head a lot of rumours.- Anya hunched her shoulders, looking up at him. She saw the surprise in his eyes at the question, however well-hidden it may have been: his mouth and nose were, as usual, covered by a dark, silken half-mask.  
The Forsaken abandoned his tome to cast a wary look her way. She was smiling slyly now, her ears perked up.  
-... Good. They're... Good.- Deciphering his expression was particularly difficult now, as he rarely displayed that kind of emotion, but she thought she detected a hint of embarrassment.  
-You two make a nice couple, you know.- Anya commented, casting her eyes down for a second. A kind of melancholy briefly shadowed her expression. -... He would have been happy for you.-  
There was no answer to that, and she felt his prying eyes upon her. Revan was staring hard at her face, now, and his eyes were no more than two thin slits of light.  
-Pardon me?-  
-You know who I'm talking about.- She had been trying to broach the subject for quite a long time. For a moment, even Anya's voice lost all certainty. -You... Haven't forgotten about your dearest friend, have you? Auren...-  
She was given no time to finish the word, as she jolted at the sudden thump that interrupted it. Revan had slammed the book closed, and was now glowering at her, completely still for a few seconds.  
-Do not say that name.-  
This was all the proof she had been looking for. -So it is you after all.-  
-How did you...?-  
-Did you really think that changing your name would be enough, for those who knew you? The Sun's Shadow...- Anya snorted. -Seeing how much he spoke about you, I'd have to be an idiot to forget. And all the time we spent together, the three of us...-  
Revan heaved a long sigh, lowering his head in agreement. -Few people remember that elf.-  
-But those few do so very well.-  
-For how long have you had suspicions?-  
-Since I was brought here- your family name isn't that common. Also... I've seen you talking to my son, lately.- She added, after a second of thought. The nostalgy on her face was very clear, by now: it marked thin lines on her brow, the first signs of centuries passing by. Her smile was vaguely amused, though only in a dull, detached way. -Sometimes he acts like an excited pup, dancing around his master. Just like his father did.-  
-The eyes of an Embershade are always sharp, I see- the undead said. He looked indifferent, at first sight, at least for those who didn't know what to look for. He had stopped trying to meet her eyes, his gaze lost somewhere in the empty room.  
-Ah! I'm no Embershade.- The greenish glow of her eyes disappeared briefly as she allowed herself to sigh, her shoulders sagging. Then it came back as she looked around, face veiled by her thoughts. -I've never really been one of them.-  
-He would not have been happy to hear that. Neither would your son.- There was no inflection in his voice: it was a completely neutral statement.  
-No... I guess not. Doesn't mean it's not true.- She clicked her tongue, looking for words. -There was something that always kept me apart from my husband, and there always will be. A gap that I could never... That we could never bridge. At times it felt like we lived in different worlds... And of course his son would take so much after him, wouldn't he?- Anya let out a sad, small laugh, and met his eyes again. -Sometimes I think you got much closer to his heart than I ever did.-  
Silence followed, and lasted for a few, long moments. Revan regarded her for a time, caught between surprise and resignation, before shaking his head with what appeared to be a sigh behind his mask. -He loved you, Anya. Like nothing and nobody else.-  
She smiled at him again and scooted back the chair she had been leaning on, before sliding onto the seat without so much as a noise. -Loving someone and being close to them are two very different things. I don't doubt his love... I never could. He was never a liar, at least not to me. Only... He saw things I could not, and he was always silent over it. I think. I guess it sounds foolish.-  
-I am not known to suffer fools.- Anya snorted. She was still smiling, but her brow was furrowed as if in pain. Before she could reply, Revan went on. -You may not be an Embershade, but you are as sharp as the lot of them. You are... Right, about him. There are things he told no-one.-  
-No-one except you.-  
-This is where you're wrong. I didn't get to hear half of what went through his mind. And it took me more than a century to understand the half he did tell me about.- Now Revan was frowning too, lost in thought. -... I don't believe I fully succeeded, now that I think about it.-  
-You, admitting you don't understand something?- Anya's tone was mocking, but there was no malice in her words. It sounded more like she was trying to change the subject, to chase away the sadness. -By the Sunwell, is the End coming?-  
Revan didn't look nearly as amused as she was. He shook his head slightly, his eyes half-closed; it was impossible to tell whether he was smiling or glaring at her. -The arrogant fool you knew has been dead for a long time.-  
-So... Is this what Revan means? New name, new... Ah... Unlife.-  
-Relatively speaking...- Anya's slightly confused look escaped his notice. -I'm more alive now than I was while I still breathed.- His hand had left the book alone to travel upwards, towards his neck, where it closed around a white necklace. The jewel shone even in the dim candleglow. The only pearl decorating it, a black dot on the ivory surface, captured what little light there was and seemed to shine on its own. Anya followed his gesture with her eyes, and nodded to herself as she recognized it as a wedding ornament of sorts. Her face softened; then a thought came into her mind and caused a small frown.  
-Does she... Know?-  
The Forsaken took a long time to answer, carefully choosing his words. -She knows a lot about me. And she understands more than what I tell her. She has a certain, ah... Insight into my mind.- Now his smirk was quite clear, although still hidden.  
Anya had heard a few rumours about the peculiar use the two priests made of their powers, and she briefly wondered if that sentence- which felt like a joke not meant for her ears- had anything to do with them. Before she could ask, however, Revan spoke again.  
-But I never told her about Hathe.- It was the first time that she'd heard the name of her husband in years. Revan's tone had been calm, little more than a whisper, but it was enough to breathe life into the image that had been on both of their minds since the beginning. It was like seeing him, for a moment, at the other side of the table: fingers crossed under his chin, burnished golden hair escaping his ponytail, ears pointed backwards and heavy-lidded eyes adorning his typical, catlike smirk. She squeezed her forgotten glove tightly, casting her eyes down on the wooden surface.  
-Will you ever do it?-  
-Even if I didn't tell her outright... She would know, I believe, sooner or later. And I see no reason to hide it.- He replied, sincerely.  
-And yet, you still are.-  
The undead sighed. He did not look exasperated, but again he took a few seconds to answer. -You see, Anya... Undeath has a strange way of toying with the mind. When I awakened years ago, the only thing I could remember clearly was that I had fought for Lady Sylvanas. You and your family... You were just twisted ghosts to mock me in my nightmares. I stopped sleeping after a very short while.- His words were measured and careful, said in a kind of hoarse monotone. He was probably not spilling his unfiltered thoughts, but it was much more than what she had heard him tell others in the guild; Anya couldn't help but wonder why, as she listened in silence. -I did not recognize you when Yunel brought you here, just as I hadn't recognized him on our first meeting. And yet, lately...-  
-The past came back to haunt you?- She supplied helpfully.   
The priest raised an eyebrow. -If you wish to see it that way. Tiana... She helped me remember some things. Others followed on their own. I still have some gaps, but...- He shook his shoulders. -I remember who I was, for the most part. It doesn't mean I will be that elf again.-  
-Such a pity. I missed your grumpy face- Anya teased.  
-I fear you will have to settle for my charming smile.-  
They looked at each other for a second, and Anya burst out laughing, a low but pleasant sound. A strange gulp that could pass for a chuckle came from behind Revan's mask, so quiet that it was easy to dismiss it as a product of imagination.  
As soon as that brief moment of hilarity was over, the woman's laugh dwindled to nothing and faded into a companionable silence. She let out a sigh that sounded like relief and glanced his way. -I really have missed you, you know. The last time we spoke...-  
-... When I brought you the news.- Revan avoided her eyes, and once again stared hard at the wall.  
-Yes.- She shut her lids in response. -You looked like a damn construct... No greetings, not a look at us, nothing at all. You put the letter in my hand, waited for me to read it. I asked you how it had happened, and you just left. That's not... A good way to deliver condolences, you know.-  
-I remember.- Revan's voice wavered for the first time in the whole conversation: it was a barely audible tremble, something akin to regret. Even that little was surprising, coming from him.  
Anya hesitated, uncertain of how to go on. In the end she gathered her spirits; her ears were low, but tense. She tried to meet his gaze. -Will I ever know how he died?-  
There was a pause, as Revan weighed the question. Anya could almost hear the gears in his mind turning behind the façade he still tried to keep up. The only visible change was a narrowing of his eyes. A sigh, however brief. -I owe it to you, do I not? Words, in exchange for a long silence. It would be... Equivalent. Fair.-  
Again, the confusion on Anya's face was lost upon Revan; his only hand disappeared under his cloak as he stood straight and started to slowly pace the room. He kept his gaze fixed on an empty space.  
-It was during the troll raid on Quel'thalas. We got back here after days of forced march from the south, chasing after them, and we met the Horde forces on the Thalassian range. When we arrived, we found chaos. The forest was completely ablaze.- The frown on his face was hidden by the mask, but it was clear in Anya's mind just as if she could see it. -He was furious.-  
-Not hard to believe.- They both remembered the fierce protectiveness that Hathe had held towards the Eversong woods and everything that inhabited them: his bouts of rage were as rare as they were frightening, and they were consistently tied to threats towards what he held dear. The image of his face contorted in righteous anger made its way into Anya's mind as she listened to the tale.  
-We had far too little time to plan an organized attack. I think that was the first time he was more eager to fight than me. He just told us to stick to our usual tactics, hopped on his dragonhawk and took off.-  
-He was to cover for you?-  
-As always.- The bitter note in Revan's voice didn't escape her. -But that day, he was... Different. Less careful. He kept close to the treetops, looking for green skin. He rushed ahead. When I... Found him... His quiver was empty.-  
There was another long silence, then. Revan was looking for words, perhaps, or steeling himself in order to go on. She heard him take a deep breath, and when he spoke again, his voice had gone back to being neutral and distant, as if talking about remote history. -I never saw them strike him down... That was the first time we faced Cho'gall and his ogre magi. I knew nothing of their magic, and manipulating it took all my attention.-  
Anya frowned, and objected in her softest, most conciliatory voice. -You don't need to make excuses for what happened, you know...-  
-I'm not.- The answer was oddly curt, like he wanted to cut off her attempt at comfort as soon as it had begun. He shot her a stern look from over his mask. -You asked to know what happened, and this is it. I should have watched his back, and I did not.- His tone was harsh at first, but it quickly became quiet again as he forced himself back to apathy. -I was focused on the enemies ahead. I only turned when I heard his dragonhawk roar. It had been caught in a net. A dirty old trick of the Amani... He'd always been too careful to fall for it.- His eyes were little more than a yellow slit, now, almost invisible in the half-darkness of the dying candle. -I charged at the trolls surrounding him...-  
Anya anxiously waited for the end of the sentence. What end had come to her husband was clear to her by now, but there would be something conclusive in finally hearing it spoken aloud: it would have meant, after all those years, that her thirst for answers was sated. She still hadn't processed much of what Revan was telling her, but she already knew she needed to hear the rest of it. And yet, no ending seemed to be coming: a look at his furrowed brow, at his darkened, thoughtful expression, told Anya that he needed a small push.  
Her voice was small and slightly trembling when she made her request. -... Go on.-  
-There is nothing more to say- was his dry answer. -He already had an axe wedged in his neck. I was too late. Not fast enough.- From his words alone one could have assumed Revan was deep in regret, but he had taken care to accurately strip them of any inflection. They were bare facts in his mind, part of an accurate analysis. As he spoke he bored his eyes into hers, as if daring her to do something. What exactly she was expected to say escaped her.  
Anya's heart contracted painfully. The truth had finally come to her. She noticed his gaze at the back of her mind, and understood he was trying to gauge her reaction; but right then she could not bring herself to care. In her mind she replayed the scene Revan had just described: her beautiful ranger and the fierce beast she had bred to protect him, fighting in unison, like a single creature utterly devoted- body and soul- to the protection of its home. Hathe's blind fury at the profanation of what had been to him the most sacred of places. His thirst for vengeance, a feeling normally so alien to his heart, quickening his hand and clouding his judgement. And then... The final moment.  
Half-buried in reddened foliage, pinned to the ground like an animal, legs still fastened to his mount's saddle, broken bow and empty quiver leaving him harmless and vulnerable...  
-... He looked at me.- Revan's voice brought her back to the present, and she took note of her own hand painfully gripping her side, fingers clamping on the leather of her gloves like an injured man's teeth would close around some strip of cloth in an effort not to scream. She had to force herself to soften her grip, and that feeling of oppression stayed with her even as she focused on the alchemist. His distant gaze was pointing at the manor's closed door. -When I got there, I mean. I drove my blades through the trolls, and he looked at me as they fell. He only got two words out, before he...- A brief pause, an uncertainty which would have surprised her, had she been thinking clearly. Instead of the word she'd expected, Revan made a quiet, bizarre sound, the dry gulping of a completely desiccated throat. Then he continued talking, his tone yet again stripped of any emotion. -Just two words. “Protect them.”-  
There was no need to clarify the meaning of those words, or whom they referred to. The knowledge weighed on them both, heavy in the tense silence.  
Anya spent almost a full minute thinking, frozen and soundless. In the end, she cast her eyes down, as a sad, forced smile stretched her lips a little.  
-So... His last thought went to us.- She had chosen the least painful truth among the many hidden in Revan's sentence. She let her eyelids slide down, completely shutting her eyes: looking at the man would have been too unbearable, in that precise moment. -I 'm... Happy to know that.-  
Revan snorted in disapproval. -Is that all you have to say?-  
That made her open her eyes again, if only to stare unbelievingly at him. -What else would you want me to say? Do you want me to blame everything on you?- Her voice started rising, and it sounded dangerously close to breaking. Revan had told her nothing more than she had asked for; and yet it was too much, too painful, too fast. She bolted upright. -You couldn't save him. You didn't grant his last wish. You didn't even let his family know how he died. You disappeared from our lives like you'd never been there! Is this what you wanted to hear?-  
Silence. A frustrating silence that did nothing but feed her turmoil: it encouraged her to let it all out, to rage and scream. Revan stood completely still, his head barely bowed but the ghastly lights of his eyes pointed straight at her. She couldn't understand whether he was struggling with guilt or simply giving her a scapegoat- and deciding which of the two would offend her more was an even harder ordeal. They stood like that, staring each other down, for the longest time: Anya was breathing loudly, an hand still tightly clamped around her gloves and shaking with emotion.  
-I think...- She said at last, when she tired of that stalemate. Her voice was quiet, suddenly, little more than a murmur. -... I think you already know those things. I think you said them to yourself in life, as you refused to answer my questions, and each and every time you avoided me or Yunel. And maybe you thought them again in death, after you remembered what had happened. Am I wrong?-  
-I told you you're as sharp as an Embershade, I believe.- Revan's sarcasm, this time, sounded empty, devoid of both humour and malice. -But you're wrong on one thing. Aurendil was haunted by these thoughts at first, and later tried to chase them completely out of his life. I do not know which of the two was the worst choice, but it would very much be pointless for me to repeat either.-  
Anya furrowed her brow, as the storm of contrasting thoughts in her head partially gave way to confusion. She had expected him to ask for forgiveness, and she had even been preparing to give it to him. What Revan had given her instead was a crude admission of his wrongdoings, without embellishments nor second intentions that she could fathom. She would have thought of it as a careless act, something impersonal, were it not for the subtle hints the other had given her: a pause, a sigh, the expectant look on his face. There was something there she did not completely understand: she had written it off as guilt, and yet there was obviously more.  
It was Revan himself that spoke again, when he saw her mull over those clues: -I accepted what happened. The elf I was... He was arrogant and full of rage, and your husband was one of the few things that made him a better man. When he died, all of that died with him. Seeing you or Yunel was like looking at a ghost, and he could not bear that. He chose to burn all bridges. He was a coward... But that coward is not me.- He had stopped looking at her, now, and he was staring at the table, all narrowed eyes and harsh words; but his voice softened soon after, and for the first time in the whole conversation, an apology seemed to hide between the lines. -If I spent the rest of my considerably long existence regretting the a dead man's mistakes, Anya, I would have very little left to go on with.-  
For a brief time, Anya considered her possibilities, trying to make sense of it all. At the end she chose a question, her tone wary: -You forgave yourself, then. What of me?-  
The shrivelled skin at the corners of Revan's eyes wrinkled. Under the mask, he was smirking. -You are free to blame me, if you so wish. I reckon you have every right to.-  
It almost sounded like a dare, from his tone and pose- he had straightened his hunched shoulders, and the sight briefly brought back an echo of the rigid, aloof Spellbreaker that had brought her the news of Hathe's death. But where she remembered the veiled eyes of one who had turned away from life, what she now saw set into a corpse's face was an intense look entirely focused on her. Revan was waiting for an answer with ill-concealed interest.  
Anya let out a tiny grin of her own. It was a feeble, fragile expression, still vulnerable but undeniably real. -You judge that man too harshly. It's disrespectful to speak ill of the dead, master Revan.- The fleeting smile left her lips as quickly as it had took them, leaving only the weakness of mind that had underlined it. -Listen. You told me... Many things, tonight, and I'm not sure I took everything in yet. I thought we were talking about a closed wound, and it turns out I was wrong. Still...-  
She circled the table to stand directly in front of him. The Forsaken, though much thinner and more pallid than the elf she had known, certainly hadn't gotten any shorter: to look at him in the eye from that distance she had to raise her chin. He was still staring curiously at her, as if trying to decipher some sort of code.  
Anya didn't miss the surprised rise of his eyebrows when she clapped his shoulder, nor the subtle relaxing of his posture. The reaction brought forth an amused smile, despite the feeling of exhaustion the conversation had left in her.  
-... If I held a grudge against you, my husband would come back from the grave to haunt me. It's over and the three of us are still alive, aren't we? … Relatively speaking.- She echoed his earlier choice of words, one that held no particular meaning to Anya but which she assumed had some kind of importance to him. -I won't deny that things would've been... Easier, much easier, had you- had Aurendil not taken that path. Nor will I hide that I came to loathe him for a while, after he deserted us like that. But... We're talking of old wounds, now. Time did a lot to heal them.-  
A small snort came from Revan, who seemed torn between relief and some kind of satisfaction, like a mentor watching his pupil pass some sort of trial. When he spoke, there was something warm in his voice. -This is why he chose you. I see it now.-  
Anya gulped, slowly lowering her hand and her head both. Her ears drew back and the tips quivered for a second, but she feigned arrogance and crossed her arms theatrically over her chest, looking at him sideways: -Why, you had doubts before?-  
-From the way he spoke of you? It would have been impossible. The forest may have been his temple, but you were his goddess.- Revan had the remarkable skill of appearing, at the same time, both teasing and completely truthful; there was something intimate in his tone, a trace of the same melancholy that had been plaguing her since their first words that night.  
She let out an embarassed little laugh, but her heart throbbed painfully: perhaps because of how charged their conversation had been, the memory of Hathe was more alive and vivid than it had been in years. She felt as drained and vulnerable as she had been right after reading of his death: the pain of loss had never truly left her, but the memory stung like it was days-old instead of thirty years away.  
Anya's suddenly pained expression betrayed her turmoil to Revan; still using that strangely delicate voice, which she hadn't thought him capable of, he tried to bring her back to reality. -You should rest. The living should not be awake this late at night.-  
Almost mechanically, she nodded. -I guess I need to think this over when I'm not half-asleep- she mumbled. When she finally met the Forsaken's eyes again, her own were veiled with doubt. -Will we speak again or are you going to disappear on me?-  
-We live in the same building. It would be hard to avoid you.- He remarked, sidestepping her to reach out and take the book he had left on the table.  
-You know what I meant.-  
-And you know what I meant. Good night, Anya Embershade.- He took care to stress the family name.  
As she watched him disappear in the shadows, apparently not needing to see where he put his feet while he descended the stairs to his underground lair, the woman let out a last, quivering smile.  
She did know.

**Author's Note:**

> These characters are very dear to me. Anya was the mother of my main toon, while Revan is my partner's character. Their backstory was never planned, it just spontaneously grew out of our RPs and it was one of the best experiences I've ever had on WoW. There is so much to tell, a single story would never be enough! Hopefully someone finds it as interesting as I did.


End file.
